


The Chase

by Calmerion Anon (angrymermaids)



Series: Calmerion [5]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Friends With Benefits, M/M, Outdoor Sex, Public Blow Jobs, Skyrim Kink Meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-03
Updated: 2014-08-03
Packaged: 2018-02-11 15:15:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2073030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angrymermaids/pseuds/Calmerion%20Anon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Etienne Rarnis, theft is a form of foreplay. Calmerion plays along.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Chase

**Author's Note:**

> Submitted to the Skyrim Kink Meme as an unprompted fill. It's actually a shippy sequel to [Protector](http://skyrimkinkmeme.livejournal.com/4580.html?thread=8297188#t8297188), since I decided to keep that one (mostly) gen.

On a moonless night over Windhelm, flitting between rooftops and along the edges of walls, Etienne Rarnis was invisible.  
  
His mark certainly didn’t notice him. The elf walked a determined but futile path back along his route into the city, swearing under his breath, hoping to find that which currently rested in Etienne’s pocket. He really should have figured it out by now.  
  
Eventually Calmerion gave up. He leaned against a wall, crossed his arms, and sighed. His golden head tipped back against the icy stone. Etienne crept along worn ledges and collapsed masonry, making not a sound. He was right on top of him. Close enough that he could have reached down and ruffled that fine, soft hair. No wonder he hadn’t noticed his pocket being picked, he wouldn’t realize someone had set a bear loose in the Stone Quarter until it had eaten eaten him. Not good practice for someone who had attracted the Thalmor’s full attention.  
  
Etienne himself had recovered from his own encounter with them. Mostly. The scars remained, along with the sense that part of him was still stuck in that dungeon, but he could adapt. Pluck and resilience were the wages of a boyhood spent on the streets.  
  
Catlike, he let himself down and leaned on the wall next to Calmerion. “Lost something?” he said with a cheeky grin. The elf's eyes flew wide open. He whirled around and grabbed Etienne by the shoulders.  
  
“Stop. Stealing. My stuff,” he said by way of hello.  
  
The thief chuckled. “I always give it back, don’t I?”  
  
“Still.”  
  
“I think you like it.” Etienne made a great show of taking Calmerion’s coin purse out of his pocket, making sure to jingle the money inside. He stood on his toes to whisper in a lovely pointed ear. “You can have it back,” he purred, “if you can catch me.”  
  
Those beautiful green eyes sharpened. A muscle in his jaw twitched, and he gave Etienne an almost predatory grin. “Done.”  
  
Etienne smirked. He stole a kiss and then scaled the wall, digging his fingers and toes into familiar cracks in the stone.  
  
The night was clear and cold and the excitement of the chase made the freezing air sweet in Etienne’s throat, the lights and sounds of the city below so much brighter. He darted between the shadows, jumping and swinging as easily as walking. And Calmerion, now that he knew he was being observed, had melted into obscurity. Gods, for someone so ridiculously tall, he moved like a wraith when he wanted to. Etienne caught a flick of his dark cloak around a corner, a glimpse of blond hair against the buildings’ gloom.  
  
The thief was still a few steps ahead, and he smiled. He could keep this up all night, driving Calmerion mad with lust and frustration, leading him in dizzying circles through the increasingly-empty streets until he finally decided to let himself be caught. It didn’t matter which city. Windhelm, Solitude, Whiterun, he ruled them all, and if they ran across each other in Riften, so much the better. That was a chase he could lead in his sleep. Even better was that Calmerion was good at it. Not good enough to catch Etienne fair and square, but it would happen eventually, because this was an elf born to hunt. Talos-worshippers, dragons, whatever, it was in his blood and he would keep at it until he beat Etienne at his own game.  
  
The thief perched on the roof of Candlehearth Hall, hiding in the shadow of the carved prow. He’d lost Calmerion for the moment.  
  
Two moments. He frowned. A chill wind tugged at his hood. Silently, he crept along the back of the inn. He couldn’t have gotten bored and wandered off, that wasn’t in him. And Etienne wasn’t ready to let him win just yet.  
  
Someone whistled at him. Etienne, not even breathing, looked up and around in all directions. He knew that whistle. He couldn’t see Calmerion, but Calmerion could see him. Probably. Maybe he was trying to trick him, coax him out of his hiding place. Whatever he did would be a gamble.

 

He made his choice. He slipped down from the roof on the side he thought was opposite the whistle’s origin. It was hard to tell. Sticking to the shadows, he slunk through the thinning crowds toward the cramped chaos of the Gray Quarter. No better to place to disappear, in his opinion.  
  
A rush of movement, warm with body heat, brushed past Etienne. Silent and invisible, a long-fingered hand combed through his hair, pulling the ends ever so gently.  
  
“You cheating bastard!” he exclaimed. And then Calmerion was gone again. Etienne ducked into a side-street, weaving through frozen-stiff lines of laundry, dodging barrels and carts and open windows. He turned into a dark, narrow alley. It was deserted. He couldn’t tell if he’d lost the elf or just managed to get a few steps ahead of him. He had to come out sometime. That spell didn’t last forever—  
  
Iron fingers wrapped around his wrists.  
  
“Caught you,” a soft voice murmured in his ear. “Now give me back my money.” Calmerion flashed back into view. His hair hung disheveled over his forehead, his cheeks flushed orange, his eyes bright with the thrill of the hunt. His breath was hot and heavy, so close Etienne could almost taste it. This was it, he was the prize now. Being caught, he realized, was more delicious than the chase itself.  
  
“Is that all you want from me?” Etienne said with a smirk.  
“Not really.” Calmerion took his chin in one hand, bent down slightly, and bit his lower lip just right.  
  
Etienne groaned. His hands were on Calmerion’s chest, rubbing, caressing from his neck to his hips as he leaned into the rough kiss. Calmerion’s hands wandered, sliding around to squeeze Etienne’s ass. He was taller and stronger and he’d gotten him into a vulnerable position, and Etienne’s first instinct was to jab him somewhere soft and wriggle away, but a heartbeat later he remembered who he was with. Calmerion would never push him into something he didn’t want. He’d never touch him with magic, tie him up, hit him… he’d never even suggest it. But he seemed to sense Etienne’s moment of hesitation and pulled back a little.  
  
“All right?”  
  
“Yeah. Everything’s good.” To prove it, he guided Calmerion’s hands to his belt buckle. Those long golden fingers were cold against his stomach—he hissed a little, but pulled Calmerion’s head down more insistently, nipping at his lips, tasting his tongue, rubbing against the hands that were now tugging his pants down. “Uh,” Etienne breathed against his mouth. “Did you want to get a room?”  
  
Calmerion’s normally clear voice had dropped to a husky growl. “Not if you don’t want to.” He squeezed a little for emphasis, and Etienne gasped in response.  
  
“Right.” He curled his fingers in Calmerion’s cloak and pushed him back just a bit, enough to regain his balance and turn Calmerion around with his back against the wall—easier than he’d thought it would be; Calmerion had seemed like he was determined to call the shots this time. Maybe he’d changed his mind? No matter. Etienne slid a hand under the hem of his tunic to cup the hardening bulge in his pants and grinned when the elf made an appreciative noise in his throat. The thief’s fingers, cold from the wintry night air but clever from years of experience picking locks and pockets and pleasuring a lot of interesting men, rubbed him through the warm cloth. He could keep teasing him, stretch the chase out as long as he could, but there would be another time and place for that. Somewhere warm and cozy and perfect for a long, slow fuck.  
  
This was a time and place for something completely different. Etienne grinned a little and nipped at Calmerion’s neck. He dodged a kiss, earning a muffled groan of frustration, and dropped to his knees.  
  
“How’s this,” he said as he busied himself with the inconvenient layers of wool and linen that insisted on standing between him and Calmerion’s cock. It was almost offensive.  
  
Calmerion sounded strained. “Yeah, that's good.” He buried his hands in Etienne’s hair, starting to caress but his hands clenched and grasped painfully when he was finally freed. “Fuck! Your hands are cold! Gods!”  
  
Etienne would have apologized, but that would further delay the task at hand. Instead, he dove right in.

Etienne wrapped his lips around the head of Calmerion’s cock and his fingers around the base. Calmerion gave a muffled whimper when he took him in deep. He could have made him beg for it, only teasing and tasting a little at a time, pushing him until he couldn’t keep quiet and someone came around to investigate the noise. But he wouldn’t do that. His own cock was hard and aching and the thrill of doing it outside in the cold where they were only one too-loud moan away from discovery. The prospect of being discovered was a little exciting as well—or maybe that was just his arousal talking, demanding to be satisfied without regard for the situation. They’d have another opportunity to draw it out.  
  
Calmerion was moving his hips in time with Etienne’s long, wet sucks, his fingers still curled in Etienne’s hair. He felt taut as a bowstring under Etienne’s mouth and hands. The thief glanced upward briefly to see his head tilted back and his mouth slightly open. He really was a gorgeous mer, especially when Etienne had him like this.  
  
He hummed around his mouthful and reached down with one hand, the other still working diligently. His pants were mostly off already, just his loincloth was in the way, and he drew in a deep breath when he took himself in hand. It wasn’t going to be very long. Their unusual form of foreplay had left him breathless and ready, and that was before they had even touched one another. Calmerion’s head tipped forward. He bit his lip in appreciation of the view—Etienne with his mouth full and his cock out, looking up with a smile in his eyes. Perfection.  
  
Calmerion came first, hands still clenched tightly in Etienne’s hair, a small, half-suppressed groan escaping his throat. Etienne gently replaced his mouth with both hands to avoid a bitter swallow and instead nipped Calmerion gently on the hip, and when the elf was spent, he carefully disentangled his fingers from the thief’s hair. The smell of him, the sound of his heavy breathing, the close heat and flavor of his body ensured that Etienne didn’t last much longer. He pressed his face against one golden thigh and came to the fresh, delicious recollection of Calmerion doing the same.  
  
Afterward, Calmerion tugged his pants up with fumbling hands and then slid down the wall to where Etienne still knelt, grinning.Etienne leaned forward, nestling his body between Calmerion’s legs, and gave him a soft, satisfied kiss. Long arms wrapped around his back and tugged him in closer.  
  
Calmerion only pulled back an inch or so. When he spoke, it was a warm growl against Etienne’s lips. “I haven’t forgotten. You still have my money.”  
  
“Hmm, you’re right. Here you go.” Etienne slipped the pouch into Calmerion’s pocket, not a septim lighter than it was when he took it.  
  
They sat like that for a few moments, just breathing, listening to each other’s heartbeats and occasionally kissing with swollen lips or stroking an exposed patch of skin. Etienne tucked his head under Calmerion’s chin and pressed closer. He was warm and solid.

“Well, now that I have my money back, I’d better get going,” Calmerion said, sounding rather pleased with himself. “I have to go find some legendary potion bottle in an old crypt or something. Unless you want to come along.”  
  
“Absolutely not, draugr scare the shit out of me. But thanks for the invite.” Etienne rather wanted to curl up somewhere cozier, actually, with or without Calmerion. How the elf could even think about exploring a crypt right now, he had no idea. He rolled his eyes. “I have a room, if you want to join me. I mean, if you’re more interested in your crypt than in spending the night with me, I totally understand. No hard feelings.”  
  
“I never said that.” He was grinning. Etienne thought nothing of it.  
  
“Then let’s go,” he said. “I think my toes are frozen.”  
  
“Sure.” Calmerion pressed a kiss to his cheek, stood up, and promptly vanished in a ripple of magicka. “ _If_  you can catch me,” a warm, disembodied voice whispered in Etienne’s ear, and then he was gone.  
  
“Huh? What are you—” Etienne stood and went to buckle his belt.  
It wasn’t there. He’d actually stolen it. That cheating mage bastard stole his belt. Etienne groaned and hauled himself to his feet. He started off into the night, holding his pants up with one hand and grabbing out at the empty air with the other, hoping to get a handful of his tunic. That fucking invisible asshole actually  _stole_  his  _belt_.  
  
“That was really low!” He shouted at the deserted streets. But he kept going, watching and listening and hiking his pants up every few steps, because when he caught Calmerion he swore he was going to wring his cheating elven neck, but he knew full well that they’d smile and kiss and go to bed and when they finally went their separate ways, all their things would be back where they belonged. Then they’d run across each other somewhere else and start all over again, something new, different stakes and different prizes.  
  
This was just how they did it.


End file.
